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[Arahim]

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Early morning seemed best to Arahim, or whatever passed for morning in the ever oppressive gloom of Umbra. In any case, this hour would likely serve him for what he had in mind, and would surely minimize the number of prying eyes within the city limits.

He tied his horse Temerity's reins to the husk of what was once a tree, but now looked like some tortured, dried out octopoid reaching it's snarling tentacles towards an uncaring sky, on the outskirts of the city proper and checked himself over.

He was just a tad dubious that his guise would hold up under scrutiny. Aesthetically, visually he knew he was as 'Umbran' as he could humanly get, but he lamented the notion that he could not find some vapid female hanger-on to accompany him through the city. A half-drow who parroted his every semi-clever, self aggrandizing statement would have brought the entire play of his subterfuge together neatly. Even a pale skinned human of ravendark hair, full of annoying insolence and a teenager's idea of how to exhude sexuality would have worked in a pinch.

Alas it was not to be.

Tying on his black, homemade cloak, frayed at the edges and overlong, Arahim released a small kestrel bearing a short missive to the Lenoir estate. He then mussed up his hair and started for the western bridge.

Wearing a look of smug, self satisfaction, Arahim sauntered over the stone span and entered the city. He was stripped to the waist, and wore a pair of black velvet breeches (that were far too tight) and a pair of hobnail boots.

He had painted a sigil upon his bare chest in brightest red, and applied dark black circles around his eyes. The sigil was a large frowny-face and the black eyes made him seem very scary. Licking his lips, he tasted the sharp tang of cranberry which he had used to stain his lips and mouth a dark, fruity crimson. Arahim felt like a clown, but was certain he would pass as some important, ranking Umbran to the citizenry, and thus be left undisturbed.

A sallow faced man drudged past him without so much as a glance. In fact, all of the hoi-polloi, seeming weary though oddly focused on their many tasks at hand, simply ignored his presence, and barely spared him a fleeting once over.

At one point, Arahim grabbed a young man carrying a large sack (probably full of sweet, fluffy kittens used for nefarious rituals) by his shoulders and shouted,

"Wonderful morning to live a subservient life under a self destructive regime that rewards adherence to a soul crushing, herd mentality that verges on suicidal, eh fellow Umbran!?"

He then winked at the man, and half skipped, half ran while flapping his cloak like some giant, comical bat.

His spooky, giant bat flapping away routine took a roundabout, meandering path all around the city. Sometimes he stopped to yell "Eeeee...eeetheng" or "Waaaaalk in daaaaarkness" or just "Oooo...oooooo" at some passerby while waggling his fingers at them, or rolling his eyes back and lolling his tongue out.

Finally, when he was sure no one took him for -anything- but Umbran, Arahim returned to the western bridge and entered the small tower overlooking it. Finding a small nook between two broken stones, he stuffed a folded letter within, and left Umbra in all haste.